


What dreams are made of

by ca_te



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 14:12:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ca_te/pseuds/ca_te
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just when Kurt thought New York couldn't get more perfect, he stumbled upon Blaine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for lsklainegleek who wanted a fluffy college!au. Thanks to alianne for the support, the proof-reading and the awesomeness <3

New York was amazing, made of dreams of a childhood spent wanting to be out of Lima, free to be who he was, who his mother would have encouraged him to become. Kurt loved it from day one, despite the noise, the constant flow of people and the fact that he was irremediably late for his first classes. It was as though he was bathing in magic, tendrils of it sliding over his skin and brushing through his hair.

Just when he thought that New York couldn’t get more perfect, he stumbled upon Blaine.

*

It was a rainy day, the humidity making his hair curl unpleasantly, and once out of classes Kurt immediately sought the refuge of the small café right outside campus. He was waiting in line when he spotted him, sitting in the furthest corner, a book opened in front of him and a pair of glasses perched precariously on the tip of his nose.

It had been a long time since Kurt had thought a guy was _cute_ and definitely the guy immersed in his book was the cutest he had ever seen. Blinking his way back to reality, he ordered his non-fat mocha and spent the wait for his coffee stealing glances of the man. Kurt noticed he bit his lower lip now and then, probably out of concentration; he couldn’t help thinking the stranger had beautiful lips, plush and surely soft. Clutching his cup a bit tighter, he made his way to his usual table near the window, right next to the reading beauty. As he sat down, the guy lifted his gaze and Kurt couldn’t help staring. His eyes were big even behind the lenses, warm and the colour of caramel or milk chocolate. The guy smiled and Kurt’s heart fluttered like butterfly wings. He forced himself to smile back, knowing that his cheeks must be completely red.

“Hi.”

Kurt blinked, the guy’s voice was warm like his eyes, soft and rich; Kurt thought he would be a perfect singer.

“H-Hi.”

And really he wished he hadn’t stammered, but these things didn’t happen to him; beautiful men noticing him and talking to him like that.

“You’re a student at Tisch, right?”

Kurt quirked an eyebrow.

“Yes, costume design.”

The stranger’s smile grew bigger.

“I knew it!”

“You mean you know me?”

“Well, I study musical theatre writing and I passed you a few times in the hallways since the beginning of the semester.”

The guy’s cheeks grew redder and his voice was barely a whisper when he spoke again.

“You’re not easy to miss.”

Kurt’s fingers tightened around the cup; he didn’t know how to interpret the guy’s words. Back in Lima he had been all too used to disgusted stares following him as he walked along McKinley’s hallways, always sticking out, always different.

The guy must have guessed what he was thinking because his eyes grew wide and he forcefully shook his head, curls bouncing slightly.

“Oh no, I didn’t mean it in  a bad way. It’s just that…well, you’re beautiful.”

Kurt’s mouth fell open and for an instant he was sure he had lost control of his whole body. The guy passed a hand through his hair and groaned softly.

“Oh God, now you’ll think I’m some kind of freak. I swear I’m not a stalker and I’m sorry, I tend to blurt out things without thinking and…”

He was adorable, all flushed and rambling and Kurt couldn’t contain a chuckle.

“No, don’t worry, you just…took me by surprise, that’s all.”

The guy flashed him a relieved smile before lowering his gaze again. Kurt focused his attention on the bottom of his cup, willing his heartbeat to slow down. When he lifted his gaze again the guy was looking at him.

“Do…do you mind if I sit with you?”

Kurt tried to answer but his tongue didn’t seem to cooperate so he simply nodded. The stranger collected his book and cup and stood up. Kurt took in the red cardigan and the blue bowtie he was wearing. Adorable and at the same time so gorgeous that Kurt almost couldn’t believe he was real.

“I’m Blaine, by the way.”

Kurt looked at the man’s hand, tanned and broad. It was warm against his when he took it.

“I’m Kurt. Nice to meet you.”

It was easy to lose track of time talking with Blaine; he was funny and bright and smiled with the force of ten suns. Since he arrived in New York and started attending Tisch he had met people like him, with dreams too big to be contained, who had started reading Vogue as soon as they found out about its existence, who loved Broadway with passion. But Blaine was like no one he had ever met. He spoke about music with such a quiet passion, his eyes shining with the force of it. He spoke about it as though it was part of him and the more they talked, the more Kurt found that he wanted to know Blaine. To discover how he was like when he was growing up, what his true dreams were. It was scary somehow; having always been so guarded when it came to himself, to his past and to his deepest desires, almost afraid that the world could break them. And he still was, especially after he had already tripped on reality when he hadn’t gotten into NYADA and had had to reshape a new path for himself.

When Blaine told him he used to be in his school’s glee club and that once becoming a singer had been his biggest dream Kurt couldn’t prevent a small sad smile from quirking his lips.

“Did I say something wrong?”

Kurt shook his head.

“Not at all. It’s just that singing used to be my dream too.”

Blaine nodded and smiled.

“My grandmother used to say that the beautiful thing about dreams is that they may change but the remain made of magic.”

Kurt took a gulp of his now cold coffee, his heart weirdly lighter.

Making his way back to his apartment, Blaine’s number memorized in his mobile phone and the warmth of his hand still making his fingertips tingle, Kurt thought that Blaine was exactly the person he had been waiting for when he was still in Lima, a boy dreaming about a gentle and loving boyfriend.

Even though he knew it was unwise to fall for someone he had just met, that didn’t change the fact that he spent the whole ride on the underground smiling at the tunnels sliding by behind the windows, hoping to meet Blaine on campus the following day.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blaine's texts are written in bold and Kurt's in italics :)

Blaine woke up as his alarm clock dismantled the dreams he had been having. For a while he remained there, staring at the ceiling, remembering the previous afternoon, the way the gray light had caressed Kurt’s beautiful face, the musicality of his voice, the uncertainty that had laced his words when they were talking about music and old dreams.

He had never been good when it came to romance if the failed attempt to serenade a GAP’s manager whom he had a crush for or his failed attempt to build a relationship with Sebastian, when he wanted nothing more than a toy to play with, were anything to go by. But when he looked at Kurt, beautiful and frail and so strong at the same time, something that had never completely gone off inside of him flicked back to life, the flame of romance that made him start fantasizing about sweet and lovely boyfriends when he was thirteen years old and figured out that he wanted a prince and not a princess.

It probably was stupid to feel this way and think such things, because life had proved to Blaine more than once that it worked differently from what they wrote in books and put into movies. Life was made by parents who didn’t know how to behave around their own son, by bullies that cracked your bones under their shoes simply because you were different. But then again life was also music, living in New York and meeting Kurt.

Life could be built upon dreams that come true. Despite all he had already been through at the age of nineteen, Blaine had always believed in that and always would, because it was a precious thought to hold on to when the sea was too wild and the darkness too deep. He had noticed the way Kurt had reacted to the mention of childhood dreams and he wondered if maybe Kurt felt lost without a light to guide him. Blaine foolishly hoped that he could become that light one day.

If there was a new spring to his pace and everything seemed slightly brighter as he made his way towards campus, Blaine knew perfectly well the reason behind it.

*

Kurt was easy to spot, sitting on a bench in the cafeteria, a sketchbook perched on his knees. He was probably drawing something, his tongue poking out from between his teeth and a surge of heat sloshed around inside Blaine’s stomach at the sight. He was sure he had never met someone as naturally sexy as Kurt; everything from his milky wrists barely visible under the cuffs of his shirt to his perfectly styled hair screamed beauty and it was almost overwhelming.

Nervousness slowly crept over him, what if he had misjudged Kurt’s interest the previous day because he was too eager to get his attention, to get to be close to him? He might make a fool of himself walking over and simply sitting down as though he had some kind of right to do it. He was almost about to turn around and walk out of the room when he remembered the small shy smiles Kurt had directed at him, the brightness in his eyes when Blaine had asked him his number. He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders despite the butterflies going crazy in his stomach and started walking.

Kurt lifted his gaze from his notebook when Blaine stopped in front of him; it felt as though someone had pinned him to the spot, the green and azure hues of Kurt’s eyes almost mesmerizing.

“Hey.”

Kurt’s voice was slightly breathless and to realize that maybe he was the reason for it sent Blaine’s heart stuttering helplessly against his ribcage.

“Hi. Busy creating?”

Kurt shrugged and closed his notebook, scooting backwards on the bench to leave him place to sit; Blaine felt insanely happy and grateful for it.

“Nothing much, just a couple of sketches.”

Blaine found himself hoping that one day Kurt would trust him enough to show him his work; maybe he would be lucky enough to be the one Kurt would come to for advices. He’d love to be that for Kurt, to be a constant in his life, to support him and kiss everything better when the world tipped around the wrong way.

Clearing his throat he took a seat on the bench and smiled nervously, mentally berating himself because he hadn’t given more thought about the way to proceed from there.

“Nice bowtie.”

Kurt’s smile was genuine and something relaxed inside of Blaine.

“You like it? I guess I’ve been obsessed with bowties since I understood what they were.”

“Being obsessed with fashion is always good.”

 “It is and I have always worn my bowties with pride even when they teased me mercilessly for that.”

Kurt’s smile was thin and Blaine wondered if once again he had hit the wrong key; he should have known better, leaving certain memories behind wasn’t always easy and the scars remained anyway. His scars were there every morning, white and wide right under his ribs, but where were Kurt’s? How deep did they run? He really should have known better. For a while Kurt remained silent, the sounds of the cafeteria engulfing them, clinking of cups and voices talking and laughing. Blaine wanted to reach out, to take Kurt’s hand and brush his thumb over those pearly-white knuckles, but he couldn’t; he adjusted his glasses on his nose to give himself something to do before speaking again.

“I am sorry; it seems I always manage to say the wrong thing.”

Kurt shook his head, eyes wide and so clear that they seemed made of glass.

“No, it’s just…I thought I had put some things behind my back now that I’m here, but it seems I haven’t.”

Blaine took him in, his shoulders slightly hunched, his lips set in a thin line; he didn’t want to be the one responsible for that look on Kurt’s face. He knew they didn’t know each other, except for their names and for a couple of silly music-related anecdotes; they shouldn’t have been here, standing on tiptoes on the verge of a possible discussion about wounds and broken hearts, a discussion that Blaine had never had with anyone else before. And yet there they were and Blaine had to do something about it, had to find the courage because things like this didn’t happen every day, people like Kurt didn’t happen every day.

“D-do you want to go for a walk or something?”

He held his breath as Kurt worried his lower lip and let his gaze travel around the noisy space. When he finally nodded, Blaine’s heart thumped happily. Waiting for Kurt to collect his belonging he had to remind to himself that this was nothing much, just maybe the beginning of a friendship, and no matter how beautiful Kurt was, no matter how faster his blood rushed when he was close, that would have to be enough.

They walked in silence, shoulders brushing as they navigated through the busy streets. Words piled up high in Blaine’s throat, his fingertips tingling with the need to do something to fix whatever was preventing Kurt from being completely free to build something new for himself.

When they finally sat down on a bench in Washington Square Kurt surprised him by being the first one to speak.

“I wasn’t expecting this.”

Blaine looked at Kurt who kept his eyes focused on the fountain in front of them.

“What part weren’t you expecting?”

“The part where I meet you, we don’t even know each other and yet you want to know about me.”

Guilt unfurls cold in Blaine’s stomach; he shouldn’t have pushed so much, he knows and yet there was no way he could help it.

“I am sorry.”

Kurt turned, then, a small smile on his lips.

“You shouldn’t be sorry, Blaine. It’s just…I wasn’t expecting it, I…I have never had someone who asked me to talk, really talk.”

Blaine nodded, because he knew the feeling; back at Dalton the Warblers were his friends but there were certain things Blaine had never felt like sharing and no one asked for him to unlock the door he had closed and locked after that night at the Sadie Hawkins dance. There were things that he felt they couldn’t understand, not because they didn’t care about him but because they hadn’t lived them.

“I know. It was the same for me, except maybe I was the one who didn’t want to talk about them.”

Kurt tilted his head to the side, his eyes attentive and glinting slightly in the afternoon light.

“You seem so at ease with your past, though.”

It had taken time and a lot of patience, to dig underneath the debris of disapproving glances and aching bones, but Blaine had always known he had to make it; he owed himself that, a second chance, not giving the possibility to those who had hurt him to keep doing it throughout his life. He wanted happiness, he wanted music and freedom to be himself so he had taken them. His hands were still covered in the scars he had acquired trying but each of them was worth it.

“It isn’t that I am at ease with it; more like I decided it didn’t matter enough to prevent me from living all the rest, if that makes sense.”

He shook his head, wishing he was better with words.

“It does make sense.”

Blaine lowered his gaze on Kurt’s hand, resting on the bench between them, and allowed himself to cover it with his own. It was soft and warm, just like he had imagined it.

“Look, Kurt. You might not see it but you’re already there. You are in New York, you’re studying something you love, you have the world in your hands, waiting for you to shape it.”

Kurt shifted on the bench but didn’t pull his hand away.

“It’s just that sometimes I think certain things will always remain inside me and…”

“Oh, they will, but you’ve got to use them to become better and stronger, not to let them drag you down when you’re supposed to soar.”

Kurt’s eyes were looking straight at him, serious and deep like twin blue seas.

“Thank you, Blaine.”

Something lifted inside of him, floating light at the thought that maybe he had managed to do something for Kurt.

“No need to thank me, Kurt.”

They kept looking at each other until Kurt’s cheeks started to color and Blaine felt his own getting hotter. He quickly removed his hand and cleared his throat.

“So…”

“Want to go for a coffee? Also you’ve to tell me how comes that you’re so good with words when you’re supposed to write music.”

Blaine chuckled.

“Sure! And, well, I’ve to admit I’ve always had a weak point for those small poems they print on chocolate’s wrappers!”

Kurt’s laugh rang perfect and clear and slipped easily in the small space under Blaine’s heart where he kept the biggest dreams, nestling as if it was there to stay.

*

(23:30)

_I just wanted to thank you again for today; it meant a lot to me._

**Again, you don’t need to thank me and I know we don’t really know each other yet, but I am always here, you know?**

Blaine hid his face against the pillow, hoping that the fact that Kurt was taking time to reply didn’t mean he had embarrassed him.

(23:40)

_Weird as it may sound I actually feel like I already know you._

Blaine grinned, his stomach assaulted by butterflies. He had never felt like this before, light and humming with warm energy; it was one of the best sensations ever.

(23:42)

**Same for me. Maybe we’re both crazy or maybe we’ve already met in a parallel world or something.**

_Okay, you definitely are the crazy one here!_

**Just so you know I might get offended but I won’t; only because it’s you, though.**

_Oh, I feel honored!_

**Good, you should :P**

Blaine stared at his phone’s screen; was Kurt _flirting_ with him? It was almost surreal, to think that someone like Kurt, beautiful and talented and sweet, could be interested in him. He certainly couldn’t deny the sparks that every text ignited inside of him or the desire to spend more and more time with Kurt.

(23:50)

**Also, tell me if I am too pushy, but would you like to have lunch together tomorrow?**

He closed his eyes and forced himself to relax; it was just a small invite to lunch, right? He wished he was better at this, but all of it, from the trembling in his heart to the playful texts was unknown territory. With Sebastian there had been none of it and it made him angry because now he knew he shouldn’t have given up so much hoping to catch something more than lust in Sebastian’s eyes. He shook his head forcefully; it didn’t matter now, what mattered was the present and the fact that no one could rob him of the chance to be happy with Kurt.

(23:55)

_I’d love to._

**Great! I’ll see you tomorrow at the cafeteria, then** **J**

_See you tomorrow, Blaine. Good night x_

**Good night, Kurt x**

He fell asleep with that small “x” shining against his closed eyelids.

///

Kurt slipped into this new life with Blaine in it easily; somehow it was like going back home, back to a place where he belonged. Without realizing it, since his arrival in New York, he had shielded himself, maybe it was out of habit or maybe out of fear because he was too used to people not liking him, judging him. Sure, he would never change who he was, he had fought too hard to end up like that, but that didn’t mean judgment was easier to deal with. Doing so, though, he had held in part of the passion that had brought him in the city of his dreams; only a small rivulet of it had kept fueling his new-found dreams, and they needed more than that, _he_ needed more than that.

Then Blaine had come, with his soft words of encouragement and those incredibly contagious smiles, with his habit to take him by the hand when the streets were too crowded or he was too excited and wanted show him something. All of it was new to Kurt, the happiness that filled him when he heard Blaine laughing, the warm tingling that made him tremble from head to toe every time that Blaine leant too close when they were watching some musical together or when they stood on a packed underground train. It was like a low hum, spreading through his body, igniting his nerves.

It was like taking a step out of a garden and realize that the world was waiting for him.

*

He should have realized it since the beginning, since Blaine lifted his gaze from that book in the café and the mere sight of his eyes had sent his stomach fluttering, but he hadn’t. The moment Kurt realized fully that there was no way he could look at Blaine only as a friend was on a night in late November. They were sitting on the roof of Blaine’s building, huddled under woolen blankets and drinking hot spicy wine they had prepared.

Blaine was talking about a story he had dreamed of writing when he was still in high school. It was about a boy who lived on the edge of the unknown, all alone, with no one to answer his questions, to sing him to sleep or to kiss him. One day, tired of the loneliness, the boy took a step into the unknown and then another and another, until he felt someone take his hand. For the whole story he never saw who the person was, but he could hear a voice, singing softly to him and answering all the questions that before had been left unanswered.

“Did this person kiss the boy too?”

Kurt looked at Blaine as he tipped his head backwards and stared at the sky stretching black above their heads.

“I like to think so.”

When Blaine turned towards him he was wearing the most tender, beautiful smile Kurt had ever seen. And in that moment, with the scent of cinnamon twirling around them, he understood that what he had begun to feel for Blaine simply couldn’t be confined in a box labeled “friendship”.

He wanted to be the one to take Blaine’s hand, answer his questions and kiss him, until the end of time.

///

Blaine realized he had to something because otherwise his heart was going to crack at the seams for how big what he felt was on a Thursday morning in December, right before Christmas break. Kurt had been so stressed during the previous week because of exams and projects to hand in and Blaine had wished he knew what to do to cheer him up, to help him out. In the end he had simply opted for being around the more that he could, knocking on Kurt’s door almost every night, a movie in one hand and sometimes takeaway in the other.

The day of Kurt’s last exam, Blaine was standing on the pavement right outside Tisch’s entrance, clutching a bouquet of yellow roses as though it was a lifeline.  He had spent at least half an hour at the florist, looking at all those flowers and feeling so lost that the shop owner had taken pity of him and asked if he needed help. Blushing he had said that he needed something for someone special. The woman had looked at him with a raised brow. “I guess it’s for someone who’s more than a friend?” Blaine had looked at her and a small smile had titled his lips, “Yes, definitely.”

When the doors opened and Kurt steeped out, Blaine’s heart went completely crazy and all the words got lost somewhere, swept away by the wave of anxiety and longing that sloshed through him.

“Blaine!”

He swallowed around the lump in his throat and held out the bouquet for Kurt to take it.

“These are for you.”

Kurt blinked, cheeks red and eyes wide.

“But…”

“Because you worked so hard and to remember that you’re amazing, Kurt.”

Blaine desperately hoped that this was alright, that Kurt didn’t think it was too much. Then, Kurt’s arms were around him and he found himself pressed against him, the sweet scent of his cologne making his whole body thrum.

Kurt’s voice was trembling slightly when he spoke.

“Thank you, Blaine. You were the amazing one, always being there for me. I…no one has ever done something like that for me.”

With trembling arms Blaine hugged him back, and all he could think was that he loved this boy, completely and without possibility to turn back.

 

*

Blaine spent the whole Sunday sitting cross-legged on the floor in his room, guitar in hand and crumpled music sheets blossoming like flowers around him.

He had been composing music, thinking about notes and songs, since he could remember; back when he had been a kid, trying to figure himself out not having anyone to talk to, that had been the easiest way. Pouring everything into small songs that he would sing to himself under the shower, before going to bed at night or as he dressed for school in the morning. His grandmother used to tell him that music was a part of him, like it had been for his grandfather. She had been the only one to hug him when he had announced he had become the Warbler’s lead soloist.

Closing his eyes he let his mind free to reach out for the small memories of Kurt he had made through the past months- Kurt looking in awe at a shop’s window, Kurt with his nose white because of cappuccino foam, Kurt laughing, Kurt twirling as snow fell over Central Park, Kurt sitting on his bed crying as they watched Moulin Rouge, Kurt drawing at his desk, Kurt hugging him.

With every single image something inside of Blaine dilated, growing bigger and bigger, surging like a wave. His fingers moved easily on the chords, his love for Kurt making every note clear and sharper. He played and played until the night fell outside and he was satisfied with what he had created. Now he had to be brave and sing it to Kurt, because there was no way he could express how he felt with words, he needed music to do it for him.

(22:40)

**I know you are flying back home early on Tuesday, but do you we could meet tomorrow evening?**

_Of course! I wouldn’t want to leave without saying goodbye to you x_

Blaine cradled his mobile closer to his chest- _Please, never say goodbye to me._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics to the song Blaine sings are mine :)

Kurt went down the stairs taking two at a time; he hated being late, but to push all the clothes he needed inside his suitcase took more than expected. It was going to be his first New Year’s Eve as a newyorker, no longer tied down to Lima and he wanted to look fabulous. As he walked along the street towards the underground station, his thoughts obediently trotted back to Blaine, to the sweetness of his smiles, to the greatness of his passion for music, for life.

He had always spent a lot of his time dreaming, since he was a kid, playing in the back garden imagining to live in a castle with beautiful clothes and a prince by his side or, later on, dreaming that one day he would wake up and his mother would be there, beautiful and kind as she had used to be. He had kept on dreaming when he was in middle and high school, dreaming of bright lights and billboards, of fabulous clothes and of loves big enough to overturn the whole world.

Before meeting Blaine, he hadn’t realize how much having to let go of some of those dreams had scarred him, deep down, where he stuffed things which were too precious to see the light, right beside the faded memory of his mother’s smiles. Getting to know him had unveiled those scars and Kurt had been forced to look at them, and accept that they were there but simply couldn’t prevent him from dreaming more and bigger.

Thing was that now the majority, if not the totality, of his dreams seemed to revolve also around Blaine. There were both small things, like fantasizing about romantic walks in Central Park, and bigger ones, like daydreaming about a future together, waking up side by side in the morning and kissing over the kitchen table they would have bought together.

When Blaine had asked him to meet before his flight, Kurt couldn’t deny the way his heart had fluttered, like a small and excited bird. Standing on the underground train, he gripped the pole tighter, repeating to himself that he shouldn’t expect anything. He shouldn’t be waiting for something to happen, for their friendship to morph into something more, and yet something inside him kept growing with each morning they shared Blaine’s favorite biscotti, with each shy smile, with each dream of tanned skin and soft lips that left him aching.

Blaine had told him to meet at the obelisk and Kurt hurried along the path; the ground was still covered in snow here and there and it reflected the orange light of the lamp posts, making everything seem so much brighter. Kurt thought it looked like a dream, or like one of those fairytales his mother used to read him at night. It was still early and there weren’t too many people around, everything felt muted and softer. Kurt’s heart thumped against his ribcage, filled with the desire to see Blaine.  He didn’t like the idea of not seeing for two weeks, as he didn’t like the idea of Blaine spending Christmas back at home without his brother, having to endure hours of his father parading him around, of course being careful not to mention the fact that his son was gay.

The first time Blaine told him about his coming-out about the way his father had treated him since then, Kurt was rinsing strawberries to make a dessert for the two of them and he had squeezed them so hard they had broken, spilling red pulp on his fingers. He had yelped and Blaine had walked over; he didn’t look at him but had helped him cleaning his hands. Kurt could still remember the feel of Blaine’s fingers firm around his. That day Kurt had told him that there was nothing wrong in being upset or angry sometimes, that forcing himself to be always happy and optimistic would dry him up eventually. Blaine had scooted closer on the couch and had taken his hand. Kurt had squeezed it firmly. _With me you’re free to be yourself, to let go when you don’t have the strength to hold on._

Kurt had never had a friendship like that, not even with Mercedes or Rachel back in high school, back then no one had trusted him with so much of himself that he felt truly free to  lower barriers forged by years of loneliness.

With a small smile on his lips, he reached the obelisk and stopped dead in his track. Sitting on the fence, guitar in hand, Blaine looked up at him and smiled. Then he started playing and the whole world seemed to fade away.

*

Blaine looked at Kurt, standing perfect in front of him, immersed in the whiteness of the park covered in snow. He looked like an illustration out of a book, he looked like a dream. And Blaine knew that he would regret it through all his life, if he didn’t get this chance and bare his heart completely for Kurt to take it or refuse it.

He had spent the whole day working on the song he had composed; it felt as though it was engraved in his bones, along with his love for the beautiful man standing in front of him, lips slightly parted and cheeks red. The words stirred inside of him and easily and gracefully caressed his heart before slipping past his lips, for the world to hear, for Kurt to understand.

 

_They told me dreams are made of hopes_

_I hoped and hoped and nothing came_

_They told me dreams are made of magic_

_But I soon learned I wasn’t a magician_

_So I waited and dreamed_

_Because they say that’s what human beings do better_

_I didn’t know what dreams were made of_

_And then I met you_

_And you were calmness among confusion_

_You were big and bright skies_

_And I thought you were it_

_And I thought you were it_

_what my dreams were made of_

_You are the flesh and bones of my hopes_

_The hidden rhythm of my heart_

_You are the magic_

_The magic my dreams are made of_

The last note fell on the snow-covered ground and Blaine held his breath, his heart beating out of rhythm, like a broken piano. Kurt stood motionless, his eyes glinting in the morning light and Blaine wished he were closer to understand if he was crying. He was about to stand and apologize, his hear sinking and sinking, when Kurt took a step towards him and then another and another, small white clouds dancing in front of his lips as he breathed.

Blaine instinctively rose got up, setting the guitar aside. Kurt didn’t give him the time to say anything before he threw his arms around his neck pulling him close. Everything inside of Blaine shut down the moment Kurt’s lips met his.

There were only warm clouds of breath and fingers sinking in his curls. There was only Kurt’s body pressed so impossibly close and yet not even remotely close enough. There was only his love overflowing, drowning all the rest. His breath shook with the force of it, his skin thrummed.

Then, Kurt pulled back, gasping down air, the tips of their noses were brushing and all that Blaine could see were Kurt’s eyes, vast and azure like the skies of his song.

“Then this is what dreams taste of.”

Kurt’s laugh sounded like fireworks in the small space between their lips.

“You are incorrigible.”

Blaine knew it was no use to keep it inside, not when Kurt was there, so perfect and so important, like oxygen, like happiness itself. Kurt was the one, the one he dreamed of, the one he composed music for even before meeting him, the only one who came to know all of him and didn’t walk away. The one Blaine wanted to try to share his future with.

“I love you, Kurt.”

Kurt kissed him, long and deep, with the morning light sliding over the snow and with their hearts beating in sync.

“I love you too, Blaine.”

*

He walked Kurt back home, hands clasped and swinging slightly between their bodies. Kurt talked and smiled and shone like a star. And Blaine couldn’t believe all of it was true, that it wasn’t going to disappear in the morning like a simple dream. But no, Kurt was no ordinary dream, he was the dream Blaine had been having for so long that it became part of him. He was the only dream that mattered.

Kurt kissed him again and again in front of his door. He kissed like he smiled and like he felt, pure and strong and Blaine thought he could live on Kurt’s kisses. Time slipped past and they remained there, on the landing, holding each other. After months spent daydreaming about it, Blaine tried to memorize how Kurt felt in his arms, how is lips tasted. He knew he had to let go because Kurt’s flight was early in the morning the following day but he couldn’t bring himself to.

“You know I’m not going anywhere, right?”

Blaine lifted his head from Kurt’s shoulder and looked at him; he was smiling tender and gentle.

“I know, it’s just…”

“Why don’t you come to visit me in Lima for a couple of days? I mean…of course if it is alright with you…”

“Kurt, I’d love to.”

Kurt’s arms were strong around him. It surprised Blaine to realize how much he needed their safety and their support when he usually was the one trying to support other people. He hid his face against Kurt’s chest, taking in his cologne and his warmth.

“You make me so happy. I feel like I’m dreaming.”

Kurt kissed his temple gently.

“Let’s never stop dreaming then.”

*

 (00:01)

**Goodnight, Kurt. I hope you’ll have wonderful dreams. x**

_Of course I will, after all you are what my dreams were made of._


	4. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> future!fic, also the rating for this part is R!

Blaine doesn’t feel like waking up; he loves Sunday mornings, when Kurt doesn’t have to rush to work and has time to cook breakfast, when he usually doesn’t have rehearsals and can curl around Kurt, holding him under the blankets as long as he wants.

Right now Kurt is still asleep, hair tousled and a small smile on his lips. Blaine watches him and remembers the first morning they woke up together, legs tangled and arms entwined, in the small bed of his dorm room. That morning they had breakfast in a small café, in front of the huge windows, people passing by outside and pale winter sun shining, Kurt smiled the whole time, bright and beautiful over their cups of coffee, foot touching his under the table. In that moment Blaine thought he had finally learned what happiness  meant.

Four years have passed from that January morning and Kurt still smiles at him that way when they sit at the small table in their kitchen, sleepy and full of love, and Blaine still feels the luckiest man on Earth. He thinks he’ll never stop feeling like this with Kurt by his side, which means he’ll feel like this until the day he dies because when he pictures his future Kurt is always there, waking by his side in the morning, kissing him goodnight and bringing him flowers after every performance.

*

He asked Kurt to live together right after their graduation from Tisch; he had practically been living at Kurt’s place, his clothes hang in the wardrobe beside Kurt’s and their toothbrushes side by side on the bathroom’s sink, but he wanted a place for them, a place where they could build a new life together.

When he gathered enough courage to ask they were sitting on a bench in Central Park, warm spring sun washing over them; Kurt had dropped the Styrofoam cup he was holding and hugged him tight, lips brushing against the shell of Blaine’s ear as he repeated “yes” over and over again. Blaine had held him tight, heart soaring.

They went house hunting together, hands swinging between them as they walked along the busy streets, hopes flying high above their heads, because the moment was come to move on from their university years, to take their dreams in their hands and morph them into something beautiful and they were doing it together.

The day they moved into their new apartment, small but cozy, Blaine made love to Kurt on the small air mattress they had brought with them. Kurt held onto him tight, their moans mixing and rolling over the wooden floor, echoing against white walls. As Blaine sank deeper and deeper, love burning along his veins and igniting his bones, he realized that Kurt was to him like a beautiful dream come true. A dream made of pale skin and soft lips, a dream who loved him and took his hand and didn’t let go.

At first they only bought the bed and a few pans and plates, waiting to save up more money to buy the rest. They ate sitting on cushions on the floor and cooked their meals on a small camp stove Burt gave them. It didn’t look like a normal house at all, but it was perfect nonetheless. They came back home to each other after long days spent doing internships and part time jobs- Kurt worked in a small café and Blaine in a little bookshop- and that was what mattered. Showering together, Kurt gently washing his hair, falling asleep together; it wasn’t new but it meant so much more now that they were in _their_ new house. The place where they learned and loved, the place where Kurt drew and Blaine composed; the lyrics of the songs he wrote for Kurt scribbled on crumpled paper and pinned to the walls of their bedroom.

Slowly they raised up enough money to start buying new pieces of furniture, new sheets and curtains, they definitely needed those. Piece by piece they kept making it _theirs_ , piece by piece they learned how to work around each other even better than before, small things like Blaine passing Kurt a spoon or a glass without the need for Kurt to ask, or Kurt making sure to cook Blaine’s favorites after a difficult rehearsal. Small things and so precious Blaine’s heart was always on the verge of cracking because of all the happiness and the gratitude piling up inside of it.

Of course there have also been fights, slammed doors and yells, nights Kurt slept on the couch and Blaine had the feeling of drowning in the vastness of their bed. Times when their love was too big and cumbersome to react properly, when words hurt too much and pride prevented their hands from reaching out. Afterwards came hours spent talking, hands holding tight mugs of tea or of coffee, apologizes and promises. They always went back to their feet, the thread linking their hearts together stronger. Blaine hated fighting with Kurt, but loved the fact that from every fight they emerged with a deeper knowledge of each other, steadier on their feet, his love for Kurt engraved a bit deeper in his bones.

*

Kurt starts to stir and Blaine allows himself to lean forward and press a kiss to his forehead.

“Mmm good morning.”

Blaine smiles against Kurt’s warm skin.

“Good morning, love.”

Kurt blinks his eyes open, azure and grey and freckles of green, impossible to describe in a song, despite how hard Blaine has tried. Blaine presses closer, until every line and every curve of him fit against Kurt’s.

“You are so beautiful when you sleep, Kurt. Like something that isn’t supposed to be here on this planet.”

Kurt smiles, cheeks coloring and eyes glinting, his palm pressing gently against Blaine’s lower back to pull him even closer.

“Oh I think this is exactly where I’m meant to be.”

Blaine’s heart flatters like the wings of a small bird and he smiles before leaning forward and pressing  a kiss to the corner of Kurt’s mouth.

*

Kurt makes love to him gently, long and slow thrusts, because they have all the time in the world today, today the universe is contained in the small space between their arching bodies and the whiteness of the sheets. Blaine feels too tight in his own skin, love simmering and rising, as every cell of his body seem to vibrate in sync with Kurt’s breath.

He’ll never get tired of this, of the way their bodies keep calling each other, sliding and entering and becoming one over and over. He’ll never get tired of the way being held by Kurt makes him feel, safe and happy and walking and breathing through a constant dream.

Kurt kisses him hard as he comes and everything overflows inside of Blaine at the feeling of Kurt pulsing inside of him, part of him as no one else can be or will ever be.

They spend the rest of the morning holding each other, caressing and kissing and whispering future plans and snippets of songs.

When his stomach starts to grumble, Blaine pushes himself out of bed and puts on a pair of sweatpants and a beany, ready to brave the winter afternoon to go and grab a couple of cappuccinos because they are out of coffee. Kurt accompanies him to the door and presses a small kiss to his lips.

*

His heart seems to float inside his ribcage, fill with love and adoration and sheer joy, pure and untamed.  As he is making his way to the nearest café, he fishes out his mobile phone and types.

(10: 00)

**I love you so much words or notes are never going to be enough.**

_Good, because I don’t need words and notes. I simply need you (and that cappuccino, so come back soon!) <3_

 


End file.
